Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Fandoms: แค่เพื่อนครับเพื่อน | Bad Buddy: the Series (TV)
Categories: M/M
Relationships: Pat Napat Jindapat/Pran Parakul Siridechawat
Characters: Pat Napat Jindapat, Pran Parakul Siridechawat
Additional Tags: Mutual Pining, Domestic Fluff, Idiots in Love, i love how that's a tag, Pat Napat Jindapat/Pran Parakul Siridechawat in Love, Soft Pat Napat Jindapat/Pran Parakul Siridechawat Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Pat Napat Jindapat is So Whipped, Pran Parakul Siridechawat is a Tease, Pat Napat Jindapat Has a Scent Kink, fight me, Pran Parakul Siridechawat is So Whipped, Morning Kisses, Fluff and Mush, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Summary: They haven't had a lazy morning since Pran got back from Singapore, so Pat and his clinginess make the decision for everyone involved (but it's not as though Pran is opposed).
ถ้ารักของเราเป็นเพลงสักเพลงหนึ่ง | If Our Love Was A Song
Bad Buddy — Pran x Pat
IT'S BECOME A COMMON occurrence for Pran to wake, tangled — swaddled — in a mess of blankets and his clingy boyfriend's addictive warmth. He can feel Pat's even breaths hitting the sensitive skin of his neck, the feeling making Pran shiver slightly, and the familiar weight and warmth of Pat's arm both carelessly and possessively anchored across his middle, staking his eternal claim even in the midst of sleep, makes Pran smile softly. He is used to Pat's bouts of clinginess during the day, feeling helpless to submit when Pat whines for attention and affection, Pran wanting nothing more than to be pressed skin-to-skin even though he can't quite shake his habit of pretending that Pat's affection is the bane of his existence. The clinginess of his boyfriend was bad enough before Pran left for Singapore, and, to Pran's equal delight and disbelief, Pat has only gotten more clingy and needy since Pran returned home a few short months ago.
Pran will never admit it to anyone, least of all Pat, that he craves the taller man's attention in a way that leaves Pran feeling as though he has crossed the threshold into obsession. Taking advantage of Pat still being fast asleep, Pran simply looks at his boyfriend without the chance of an interruption given the early hour. Brushing hair off Pat's forehead, Pran can no longer fight back the soft smile when his boyfriend mutters something in his sleep that sounds suspiciously like he's teasing Pran in his dream, the human embodiment of a golden retriever puppy nestling even closer to Pran, so that his head is buried into the join of Pran's neck and shoulder.
It's so simple, almost a base instinct at the end of the day, but it makes Pran's heart ache in the best way possible, because, truth be told, having Pat by his side is a dream come true. He wonders what has allowed him the chance of peace after so many years of tension and nail-biting anxiety, but, he supposes, that there's no point in looking a gift-horse in the mouth; that he has finally gotten his heart's desire, the time it has taken be damned.
There was hardly a day that went by, before they got together, that Pran was terrified of Pat finding out about his not-so-friendship-acceptable feelings towards the other boy — and, of course, Pran was also scared of his parents finding out that he and Pat were even remotely close. Both of those things have happened, one far more recently than the other, but there's still a thrum of anxiety that electrifies his veins on occasion, even though he knows that there's nothing their parents can do anymore; they have no leverage to use against either boy and force them into separation. When it comes to Pran's feelings for Pat, he knows that the other boy feels the same in return; that it's not a one-sided relationship, but he's still scared for Pat to know the depth of his feelings — the ones that border on obsession and addiction; the ones that legitimately scare the absolute hell out of Pran some days.
Right now, all Pran wants to do is cling to Pat and never let the boy out of his sight again.
Pat mumbles out an unintelligible mix of words and groans sleepily, his body stretching and tensing against Pran's before going lax and a sigh is pushed from his lips, barely a coherent thought in his mind as he presses a soft kiss to the skin of Pran's neck. The sharp intake of breath makes him smile, because of course Pran is already awake — he usually is unless Pat is determined to wake up before his boyfriend and attempt to make them breakfast without setting something on fire. There'd be no need of Pran hiding his instinctive reaction to the simple kiss if he were still asleep — and Pran, no matter how hard he might try, struggles to properly hide most of his bodies' reactions to Pat's nearly constant affection when they're alone, even though he's had several years of practice in that exact department.
"What time is it?" Pat mumbles against Pran's skin, eyes opening just enough to know that the sun is barely above the horizon. "Pran, go back to sleep, baby. 'S too early, sun's barely up."
Pran laughs softly, shifting on the bed so he can rest his head against Pat's without straining his neck too much. "I'm not planning on going anywhere, you big baby."
"Mmm, good. Gonna stay in bed all day."
He would argue, the words are on the tip of his tongue ready to rebuke his boyfriend's words, but there's something telling him that spending a lazy day in bed doing the bare minimum wouldn't really hurt. In fact, after everything they've been through with the insanity of work and catching up with both friends and family since Pran came back, they really do deserve a day or three where they get the chance to do absolutely nothing except be with each other. So, instead of saying anything against Pat's words, Pran hums in agreement and sinks into the mattress and his boyfriend's warmth, smiling to himself as he feels Pat freeze in surprise, clearly not having expected Pran to agree with him so easily.
Before Pat has the chance to voice his confusion, Pran wiggles down the bed and presses closer to his boyfriend, all but jamming his head into the crook of Pat's neck in a strange form of retribution for all the times that Pat has done so to Pran as either a form of teasing or something far more enrapturing. Pran has known for years that Pat has a kink of sorts for his boyfriend's scent, it's something that he enjoys teasing Pat about in any way possible, but Pran has wondered, on and off, whether the same could be said for himself. After all, most of the time all it takes is Pat's arms around him, holding Pran to his chest and surrounding him in both warmth and the oddly fresh scent that exudes from Pat's pores, for Pran to calm himself after a stressful day or something blowing up in their faces. And, though Pran will lie about it, Pat smells a certain way when things are getting a little more than heated between them, and it's enough to make Pran's head spin if he's daring enough to bury his face in Pat's skin and simply breathe.
"And you call me the clingy one," Pat teases with a soft smile, the arm he had strewn across Pran's middle now curling around the shorter man's back and pulling him closer. Pat himself shifts again, humming a sound of comfort as their legs entangle beneath the messy sheets, Pran capturing one of Pat's legs between his own and refusing to let go when the broader boy tests the waters. "Baby, are you okay? Has something happened?"
Pran swallows and pointedly keeps his face hidden against Pat's neck, quickly calculating just how far he can push his lucky silence before Pat gets even more worried and forces the truth out of Pran — which he ends up quickly deducing that there's no real point in trying to skirt around the truth. "It's really nothing, Pat. Just the usual shit, but..."
"It feels like more than normal?"
"Mmm. I don't want to think about anything right now, just want to sleep."
"Pran..."
Pran groans in defiance and wiggles even closer to Pat even though there's really no space between their bodies, skin burning where it presses flush against Pat's shirtless body, pleasant and just the right temperature to fight off the early morning chill hanging in the air. Breathing as quietly as he possibly can, Pran nuzzles against Pat's neck, laughing softly when his boyfriend shivers and instinctively tightens his hold around the shorter of the pair, holding him close and relishing in the simplicity of their little moment. While it's not exactly rare, per say, for Pat and Pran to simply bask in each other's presence without interruption, Pran has found that it doesn't happen as much as he would selfishly like it to — and, to satiate the greed he holds for his boyfriend's affection and attention, he wants more than what he's been given.
Pran wants so much more than he believes that he can have, even though he knows that Pat will gladly give Pran anything that he asks for, and he feels so selfish even simply thinking about taking what he wants — even if it comes with Pat's all too happily, and enthusiastically, given consent.
Heat stirs in his belly, heady and heavy, and Pran huffs against Pat's neck, simultaneously hating and loving how the simple proximity of Pat to Pran himself has always had Pran wanting to claim the one he has loved for over a decade in every single way humanly possible. Although, that's in no way meant to insinuate that Pran hasn't done such a thing over the years they've been together, both hiding their relationship and not — or that Pat is, in any way, a passive participant when it comes to their sex life. Truth be told, Pran has long since found out that Pat has a habit of pretending to submit to his boyfriend before turning the tables on Pran, a habit of which he isn't exactly against — especially when it satiates the possessive streak that he knows Pat has when it comes to Pran.
And Pran himself is not much better when it comes to having a possessive streak concerning Pat.
Whilst their competitions are far less common than they used to be, neither have lost their competitive streak in the slightest — and, in truth, it has only grown into something far more endearing than the usual mock nuisance that it used to be. The challenges that they lure each other into are far more... intimate, so to speak, in comparison to the childish and school-related competitions they used to enjoy facing off against one another in. Pran finds it fondly exasperating, but also downright appealing, when Pat gets a certain kind of playful and challenging glint in his fierce eyes, because he knows that neither of them will be in any state for going out into the public eye the next day.
Pat huffs in playful annoyance but ultimately hugs Pran tight, hating how his boyfriend is once again not talking about what's bothering him, but also knowing that Pran will tell him when he feels like he can put every little shred of feeling into words — or actions. Still half asleep, Pat stares at the sunlight barely coming through the outline of the blinds covering their bedroom windows and wonders whether there will ever be a time where he and Pran can simply be without having their friends or family almost literally knocking down the front door. He wonders whether any of them would listen if he told them to fuck off for a while; to give himself and Pran some space to breathe and simply exist as themselves without any kind of outside interference before they're forced back to work in a few weeks.
Pat supposes that, even if their friends don't end up listening, he could always beat them black and blue — or scare them well enough into leaving himself and Pran alone for a single fucking day, or more if he's lucky.
It feels like years since Pat has been able to hold Pran in his arms while they slept, even though it was only last night that they fell into bed, limbs tangled together and their bodies slaves to the heat and desire that had taken root barely an hour after meeting up with their friends for dinner. Their usual competition had been thrown into the wind last night, neither of them playfully fighting for what they wanted to do, instead falling into a familiar rhythm of give and take that had left Pat's head spinning and Pran struggling to level out his breaths, one of the latter's evil smirks curling his lips as he looked over at his equally ruffled boyfriend. In Pat's opinion, the dishevelled version of Pran that only he gets to see — lips bitten red, bare body covered with the claiming reds and purples left behind by Pat himself, and his usually tidy hair a ruffled mess atop his head — that is the most beautiful Pat has ever seen his lover. In short, it leaves him breathless.
Waiting until Pran's breaths even out against his skin, Pat reaches across to his phone on the bedside cupboard, quietly cursing the awkward angle, trying to make sure that he doesn't wake his clearly tired — and seemingly vulnerable — boyfriend. Opening up the group chat they have with their friends, Pat warns the lot of them against interrupting himself and Pran today, without explicitly telling them to fuck off, and even pushes for them to keep their distance for a little while longer if at all possible. Given the early hour, he's not expecting an instant response, so his eyebrows shoot up in surprise when both Korn and Wai send similar messages barely thirty seconds later, telling him, in not as many words, that he "needs to stop being such a horny animal and wearing Pran out." Instead of gracing the idiots with a legitimate reply, Pat sends through a sleepy photo of him flipping them off, forgetting that Pran has his head buried into the join of his neck and shoulder until Wai sends back a vomiting emoji, Korn clearly choosing death as he sends a smirking emoji.
Pat briefly wonders whether they've finally gotten their shit together and realised that the animosity they felt between themselves back in university was nothing short of sexual tension. But, knowing the stubborn fools that are both Korn and Wai, that day will only come when they're old and grey.
Rolling his eyes at the immaturity of the friends that himself and Pran have chosen, Pat locks his phone and quietly puts it back onto the bedside cupboard before tugging the blanket back up over their shoulders. Pran's head is barely visible above the material, but Pat has known his other half to almost suffocate himself underneath the sheets on cool nights as he chases warmth and comfort, so he doesn't worry too much about the guitar player being able to breathe. Sighing and relaxing into the warmth of his Pran, the drummer yawns and closes his tired eyes, pressing a soft kiss to the shorter man's head before allowing sleep to once again take him by the hand and lead him into his dreams of Pran and his cute dimples. It's rare that Pat doesn't dream of his boyfriend these days, whether it be about the days gone by or about the years to come, and he can't help but wonder if Pran dreams about him as well — a question which he has asked Pran many times, but all he has gotten in response is one of the other boy's cheeky smiles.
Sunlight is almost white in colour as it outlines the bedroom blinds the next time Pat opens his eyes, eyes squinting in the brightness as he peers at the digital alarm clock on Pran's bedside cupboard, trying to read the glaringly red numbers. 09:23. Pat's eyes widen in disbelief when he feels Pran groan in complaint at whatever move his boyfriend has made upon realising the time, the drummer looking down at the head now on his chest in shock, not able to comprehend that Pran — his punctual, schedule-driven boyfriend — is still curled up against him underneath the blankets at almost nine-thirty in the morning. The last time that Pran slept in past his usual seven-o'clock wake-up time, he had one of the worst fevers that Pat ever had the pleasure of being witness to, and Pat isn't too fond of the idea that Pran has pushed himself into another burnout and made himself sick again.
Lightly resting the back of his hand against Pran's forehead, Pat sighs out a breath of relief at the lack of fever, but cannot help the frown that follows, because now he has very little clue as to why Pran is still in bed. "Pran, you awake, baby?"
Pran grumbles out something unintelligible, reaching up and rubbing his eyes.
"I'll take that as a 'maybe,' hm?"
"What time is it?" Pran lifts his head off Pat's chest and partially sits up, looking over his shoulder at the digital alarm clock and huffing out a disbelieving laugh at the time. "Shit, is it really that late?"
Pat hums in affirmation, reaching up with sleepy hands and trying to smooth out his boyfriend's messy bed hair, smiling when Pran's eyes close at the simple contact. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
"Mmm, I'm okay, Pat. The sleep helped." Pran lays back down and smiles sleepily up at Pat, seemingly unaware of the turmoil he's created inside his boyfriend, still partially asleep and his brain not working at its usual capacity. "'S warm and comfy..."
Pat laughs in disbelief, a strange smile twisting his lips and a warm feeling pooling in his chest. "I bet it helped a lot, Mister "I-wake-up-before-the-sun-even-on-my-days-off." Seriously, Pran, you need more sleep than you're letting yourself have. You're not in Singapore anymore — you're here, with your "clingy ass boyfriend" who can tell that you're still pushing to prove yourself even after everything that you've achieved."
"'S break time?"
"You're less of a, quite lovable mind you, pain in the ass when you're sleepy. Did you know that?"
Pran grins. "So are you, love."
Much to Pran's thorough amusement and Pat's complete disbelief, the architect and the engineer laze about in bed until their stomachs force them from the warmth and comfort at midday, Pran hiding his face in Pat's chest as they both laugh at the rumbling growls demanding food. He finds it oddly difficult to leave the bed, and Pat, but Pran knows that their hunger needs to be satiated before they even consider curling back up and sleeping the rest of the day away — and the playful puppy whine that leaves Pat when Pran climbs off him genuinely leads Pran to reconsider just how much they really need food, if only for a split second. The things that he would do for the drummer, the guitarist wonders whether any part of him remains even remotely sane when it comes to his boyfriend.
For the sake of protecting himself from food splatters, Pran tugs on a shirt and pads out to the kitchen, rubbing his sleepy eyes and nearly stubbing his toe on the kitchen cupboard. The clock flicks over to twelve o'clock — to the middle of the day — just as Pran begins to cook up the minimally spiced curry he knows that Pat will devour like it's going out of fashion. The simple smell of his favourite curry summons Pat from their bed, not bothering with a shirt as he sidles up behind Pran and wraps his arms around his boyfriend's middle, softly nosing at the lightly painted skin of Pran's neck with a small, proud smile. Pran hums softly, wholly content to be in Pat's arms whilst he's cooking, and leans back into Pat's almost overwhelming body heat, feeling the taller man's lips curl into a larger smile against his skin.
Pran hums one of the two songs he knows will make Pat flustered and even more clingy than usual, an echoing sensation burning in his gut as he once again sings his feelings into the light of day and Pat's deeper pitched voice accompanies his only slightly higher pitched voice. "ฉันว่าฉันเพิ่งได้รู้คำตอบ ว่ารักของฉันคืออะไร มันเป็นแค่เรื่องเล็กๆ ที่ขาดไปไม่ได้." ("I've now realised what my love is about. It's something small that I just can't live without.")
Pat's chest vibrates against Pran's back as he continues the verse, and the song's composer can hear the smile in his boyfriend's voice. "แค่เพลงรักหนึ่ง ที่เธอต้องฟังเอาเอง แค่เพียงเนื้อเพลงที่มันไม่มีอะไร แต่เธอและฉันก็เข้าใจความหมายที่ซ่อนในนั้น." ("Just a love song that you need to listen to, just lyrics that are nothing new, but you and I know the meaning between the lines.")
It's their song, through and through. While he started writing it in a vain attempt at a new song for the Freshy Music Contest years ago, not long after Pat had crashed back into his life with an almost adorable level of clumsiness, Pran could never quite finish the harmony or the lyrics. That is, he couldn't finish them until he and Pat started that god awful bet about who would fall in love first, and then he couldn't stop the words from filling every bare inch of the page. Even though he has an inkling that Pat long since knew of Pran already loving the engineering student, and Pran now knows that Pat had loved him since they were kids as well — even if the boy didn't realise it himself until that day in the music store — it doesn't make thinking back on their bet any easier.
Torturous would be one way to describe it, but it was a level playing field that Pran was all too happy to use to his advantage and make sure that it would be Pat who confessed first. In reality, he's still not certain as to who actually won their bet, but it's really the least of his concerns now — especially since he has the big idiot clinging to him pretty much all day and all night, acting as though Pran is somehow going to be able to leave him alone again. The guitarist does suppose that it is a valid fear after everything they've been through over the years, because Pran has left him behind twice in their lives, even if he had no say in the first time he was shipped off to some ridiculous boarding school — and, hell, Pat even pushed for Pran to head to Singapore for the chance of getting a step ahead in his architecture career.
"You're going to have to let me go if you want to eat," Pran says, nudging Pat's bare middle with his elbow, fondly rolling his eyes when his boyfriend whines in playful misery and continues to cling to him — in fact, Pran feels Pat tighten his arms around his middle. "Pat, I'm serious, you overgrown puppy. You can cuddle me later."
Pran laughs as Pat lets out a pained noise, making it out to be as though Pran has asked the impossible of his clingy boyfriend, and, really, Pran is of half a mind to let their food burn and give Pat his full permission to hold on for as long as he would like to. But, in reality, the rumbling of their stomachs is becoming too much to ignore, and it's a much safer bet to eat while they have the chance instead of ignoring their bodily needs for the sake of their emotional needs. Pat pouts for the entire meal, playing a one-sided game of footsie beneath the table that Pran tries his hardest to ignore, quashing down the smile that threatens to deepen his dimples and admit to Pat just how much Pran truly adores his boyfriend's childish habits. It's one of the habits that Pran is still struggling to break: hiding just how much Pat actually affects him, but Pran does suppose that it can be quite a useful habit at times.
The instant that Pran puts away the final dish, not even waiting for him to hang up the tea towel, Pat latches onto his boyfriend, burying his face into Pran's neck and grinning as the guitarist shrieks in surprise and whacks Pat with the damp towel, berating him through bouts of laughter. Pran doesn't bother putting up a fight as Pat drags him back to the bedroom, and he barely gets the chance to throw the tea towel onto the bench in the process, focusing on not treading on his boyfriend's feet as he's essentially manhandled through the house. He is far more used to Pat clinging to him and dragging him places now, so much so that Pran barely bats an eye and simply goes along with his puppy-like boyfriend, smiling adoringly at the bright glimmer in Pat's eyes and the wide, playful grin on the drummer's lips.
Pran yelps in surprise when Pat forces the shirt over his head and then throws it far away before Pran can complain about there being more clothes on the floor, adding to the small pile in the corner of the room — their quickly discarded clothes from last night. He laughs as Pat all but tackles him to the bed, inhaling loudly at Pran's neck and his hands burning against the once again bare skin of Pran's hips, Pat playfully nuzzling at his prize. Pran's hands find themselves a home, one on the back of his boyfriend's head and the other resting comfortably on Pat's thigh, the guitarist's calloused thumb dancing across where the leg hem of underwear meets warm skin.
Pran imagines that this must be what home — heaven — feels like, and the world be damned if he ever lets Pat get away from him ever again.